


The Ballad of Graunheda

by mirrorphoton



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Humor, a fluffy end because I'm a sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 22:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6772438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirrorphoton/pseuds/mirrorphoton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke, Octavia, and Raven have always been known to be stubborn and make crazy bets with each other. When things get out of hand this time, Clarke's the last to come clean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ballad of Graunheda

**Author's Note:**

> This has been 99% complete in my oneshot folder for ages. I was intending to write more initially, but after taking a break and going back through it, I like where this ends a it is. So this is complete, though I've left a bit of room for another chapter or a short sequel if I ever get the urge to write more.

It started out seemingly innocent enough. It was well-known among their crew that Clarke, Raven, and Octavia were all pretty stubborn and rarely backed down in the face of a challenge. That was how the three often found themselves entangled in ridiculous bets that they all refused to lose. Oftentimes they were resolved begrudgingly through ties and truces. But it wasn’t until their first summer after college, when the three were living together in a rented house that the true strength of their resolve and stubbornness was actually challenged.

 

Raven was out first, after just two days; complaining of the sweaty smell of her leg brace and protesting that because she worked in a garage, the grunge was more noticeable and disgusting for her.

“Besides,” she grumbled, “it was a dumb bet anyway.”

Octavia gave it a good shot, lasting nearly two full weeks. By then she was complaining loudly every chance she got, and Raven was no help, laughing at her every opportunity. It didn’t help that she was a gym rat, and some of her peers had begun to make shady comments. The moment Octavia got Lincoln’s call that his summer plans had changed and he’d be back in town, she had vanished down the hallway leaving a trail of clothes in her rush, with no qualms about losing when there was hot ‘man-candy’ coming her way.

After Octavia had given in, she and Raven had agreed that Clarke technically won by default. But oh no. Clarke Griffin was a woman of her word, and the bet had been laid out plainly enough. The entire summer, that was what they had said.

So, Clarke, stubborn Clarke. She did not shower or bathe for almost three solid months.

 

At first it was hardly noticeable; her hair got a little greasy, but she just tossed some baby powder on it and it was fine. “Soaked it right up,” she said.

And she still used deodorant, and wore clean clothes. Of course, no bathing meant she wasn’t shaving. It was a little uncomfortable at first, but after a few weeks she made a comment about actually enjoying her fuzzy legs that Octavia gagged at. She washed her hands for germ-safety, and her face to prevent acne breakouts, but that was it.

It was a bit like she had just come back from the gym, except it was 24/7 (and Clarke would never go to the gym anyway). By the third week, Raven had casually suggested over breakfast that they all go swimming. Clarke declined, citing work she had to do for a painting she had been commissioned on.

Raven and Octavia agreed that Clarke’s excessive stubbornness on the matter must somehow be connected to her sort-of fight with Lexa before the summer had begun. Lexa was working on her uncle’s farm halfway across the country and wouldn’t be back until September. She’d had her heart broken before by long distance relationship failure with Costia, and Clarke had been burned when she was dating Finn, not knowing he had a long distance girlfriend. So the two had agreed to break up for the summer. It was clear to everyone else in the crew that they were both upset by it, but too obstinate to see it, and actually talk about it. Now Clarke was refusing to bathe.

She didn’t seem to notice the extra packs of Febreze bottles from Costco on the counter. Or the increase in beach and pool trip invites, practically every day. She was too busy with the large canvas she was working on. By the sixth week, Octavia and Lincoln tried to ambush her with water balloons. She dodged them by jumping a trash bin, which she knocked over, slipping in the garbage juice, resulting in her smelling even worse than before. But still she refused to give in. And her new sense of paranoia made it practically impossible to ambush her. She was convinced they were trying to make her lose the bet, even though they had already conceded that she had won.

 

Nine weeks in, “This has to end, Clarke.” Octavia finally said, “You win, Clarke!”

Clarke looked up from her cereal in surprise, “I beat you two sure, but I didn’t win, not yet.”

“How are you going to get laid ever again if you don’t shower?” Raven tried to appeal to Clarke’s inner horndog.

Unfortunately, that simply led Clarke to another idea, “Hey, I bet…”

 

It was another week and a half of torture for her roommates; blasting the cold air in their house and spraying her with Febreze every chance they got, before Clarke managed to make good on the new challenge she had set for herself. They were in a crowded club, a new hangout; The Tradepost. The cute bartender had been flirting and making eyes at Clarke the entire night.

Raven rolled her eyes, before downing her shot. “Just because she can’t smell you in here, doesn’t mean as soon as you are alone she won’t toss her cookies or pass out from the fumes.”

Clarke flashed her a cocky smile, “Oh she’ll pass out, but only when I’m done with her. Just you wait and see.” She adjusted her tank top to maximize her cleavage and reached up to her left shoulder and peeled the bandage off the scrape she’d gotten from Octavia’s cat jumping on her that morning.

“How’re you going to prove that she hasn’t just kicked you out when she realizes you smell like shit?” Octavia pursed her lips.

“I’ll get her underwear.” Clarke said, easily. Niylah’s shift had just ended, and she was making her way toward Clarke with a shot glass in her hand and a smile on her lips.

Clarke quirked an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“A drink,” she winked as she set it down in front of her.

Clarke grinned as she tossed it back and then asked, “Say Niylah, have you got a first aid kit around here?” She gestured to her shoulder, while giving her trademarked Clarke Griffin Puppy Eyes “I seem to have lost mine.”

As the two vanished into the back, Octavia looked at Raven incredulously, “You don’t think...?”

“No way. Griffin’s got game, but greasy hoe that she is right now, no fucking way.”

 

Of course, the scent of sex mingled with her odor and the leopard print thong she was dangling unpleasantly close to their faces in the living room at 5AM was proof enough that her game was way better than they’d ever dreamed. They didn’t need to hear any of the details of how the bartender had gone down on her on a desk in the back office, or the four consecutive orgasms she had gotten out of her fingers and tongue. Or how she had returned the favor and practically fucked the woman into a coma. A goddamn good thing she had at least been washing her hands, especially knowing where her fingers had been so recently.

Clarke’s smug expression was telling enough of her triumph without all those details. But she shared them with her nauseated roommates anyway.

 

Raven and Octavia had almost resigned themselves to fate at that point; it would be just over another week of torture before September and the end of their bet. Clarke was blatantly oblivious to their suffering. She seemed used to her matted hair, some of it in tangled braids. The thin layer of sweat and dirt on her skin didn’t seem to bother her in the least. The paint that she got on herself was either scraped off her skin when it dried or ignored with a shrug. Their other friends had stopped coming over to hang out, but she was too busy spending most of her time painting anyway to notice.

It was a last ditch effort when Octavia finally managed to distract Clarke long enough for Raven to steal Clarke’s phone and swipe the one phone number they thought might be able to help.

 

“I think you’re the only one who can talk any sense into Clarke.”

“What do you mean, Raven?” Lexa’s voice was clearly worried, “Is she okay?”

“She’s gone fucking Beekeeper on us!”

“...What?”

“Have you seen ‘Wet Hot American Summer’?”

“Uh, yes…?”

“We were watching it on movie night like the day after you left town. We made a bet.”

Lexa closed her eyes and took a steadying breath,“What did you bet?”

“The Beekeeper is the kid who didn’t shower all of camp in the movie.” Raven waited a beat, “Clarke hasn’t showered all summer.”

Lexa simply stood dumbfounded for several minutes, unable to think of a proper response. Finally, “What?”

Raven bit her lip, “Look, she won weeks ago. We’ve tried everything short of dumping her in a pool.”

“Why haven’t you done that?”

“We can’t get her near one. After the water-balloon incident she’s been very careful, hasn’t really left the house too much. Please Lexa,” Raven’s eyes were pleading, “She won, it’s over. I know you’re miserable without her, and she’s lost her goddamn mind. Come back and get her to take a fucking shower.”

 

It only took her two days to make her way back, a week earlier than originally planned. Lexa rolled back into town in her trusty pickup with her cousin Roan in in the passenger seat. She knocked on their door, a resigned expression on her face.

“Oh thank God,” Raven grabbed her arm and yanked her inside, Roan following with a bemused expression.

“I have made a plan.” Lexa said when she, Octavia, Raven, and Roan were all in the kitchen. Clarke was upstairs in her painting studio completely oblivious. She explained it and they agreed on the methods involved. Plan A was for Lexa to talk Clarke into showering. They were pretty sure it would not work, however, so they sent Roan out to the pickup to get the supplies they would need to set up for Plan B.

 

With trepidation, Lexa climbed the stairs and knocked on the door before pushing it open.

There was Clarke, standing in front of a half-painted canvas, grungy as fuck looking like Pig-Pen from the Peanuts. She looked up, eyes widening in surprise, and they stared at one another for several long minutes. Lexa resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose. “Clarke.”

“Lexa. You’re back.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

Clarke’s look was calculating though, “They told you about the bet.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve still got a week to go, I’m not giving up.”

Lexa sighed wih a half-hearted shrug, “I figured that’s how you’d feel.” She took a tentative step forward, “I’ve missed you Clarke, I really have.”

“I missed you too,” Clarke put her paintbrush down, and pulled her apron off, stepping toward Lexa, “Look I,” she twisted her lips, “I had a one night stand a few weeks ago.”

Lexa felt a pang of jealousy. Of course, she and Clarke had agreed to break up for the summer, but still.

Clarke was there, her hand on Lexa’s chin, “Hey, look, it didn’t mean anything. I left wishing it had been you.”

Lexa swallowed.

From this distance, there was no denying that the girl reeked. “You got someone to sleep with you when you smell like-” she managed to stop herself before she said something she would regret, “When you haven’t showered in three months.”

Clarke was grinning, she traced her fingers over Lexa’s jaw, “Is that so surprising?”

Lexa was about to say that yes it was, but then Clarke’s lips were on her. Luckily she had maintained her toothbrushing so her breath wasn’t bad. As Clarke’s tongue pressed its way into her mouth, Lexa realized that it maybe wasn’t entirely disgusting; and in fact Clarke’s musk was sort of hot in a strange way. The idea of sex with Clarke when she hadn’t bathed in so long had seemed repulsive ten minutes before, but as they kissed she found herself getting more turned on. She twisted their bodies, aiming Clarke toward the door as she slid her hands down her arms. Whether it was from their long separation and her abstinence, or the fact that she wanted to reclaim Clarke as hers, she wasn’t sure. She almost regretted the next stage of the plan.  
Almost.

Clarke’s mouth was torn from hers with a yelp of surprise. Octavia and Roan had snuck up from behind. Octavia dumped a pillowcase over the blonde’s head, while Lexa held her arms pinned to her sides until Roan had a good enough grip to bodily lift her over his shoulder fireman style. “Go, go, go!” Octavia shouted gleefully. hey hurried down the stairs with a thrashing Clarke loudly spewing expletives all the way. Raven had propped open the back door and was waiting by a plastic kiddie pool, with the hose in her hand already on.

 

As gently as he could with her thrashing, Roan dropped her into the cold water. Luckily it was a hot day. They pulled the bag off her head as she spluttered, but it was too late. Raven’s thumb slid over the hose, forcing the water pressure way up and was spraying her relentlessly. Octavia hefted a bucket and poured soapy water onto Clarke’s head. It was then, entirely soaked that Clarke gave up and just let it happen. Finally, when the the suds had been rinsed away for the most part. Raven dropped the hose, and hurried to turn the water off.

There as awkward silence, as Clarke glared at Lexa, who had stood and watched the whole thing.

“We’ll uh, just leave you two to it then.” Raven called, “Roan, you must be tired from the drive? want some coffee?”

The three hurried into the house, leaving Clarke staring up at Lexa. Finally, Lexa stepped forward, hand outstretched to help the blonde up.  

“I’m sorry it  had to be this way, Clarke.” And then Clarke struck, spitting water into Lexa’s face before grabbing her hand and tugging her down into the pool with her. Lexa really ought to have seen it coming. But she didn’t fight it, and instead began to laugh. Soon enough Clarke was laughing too, and they were tangled up, soaking wet and kissing, and they both knew they never wanted to spend another summer apart.

**Author's Note:**

> Graunheda = Commander of dirt


End file.
